WAYNE, WHO'S FATHER DIED IN THE LINE OF FIRE

			
			Once a thriving little cafe
			for passengers of the rail
			The Whistle Stop now stands
			a boarded eyesore of acrid smell
			and ill lifestyle
			if you wait there for just about 
			any 3:07 Sunday train
			Wayne will be there

			
			Wayne loves to tell the american public
			what he thinks
			the things he sees when you're 
			standing in front of him
			the battles that contort his face
			the ice cream and dandelions
			that make him grin
			the ticker tape of words streaming by
			above your head
			the world of skewed punctuation

			
			and when he does I realize
			I will never see the look in those eyes
			in any of the passengers on 
			the approaching train


			
			
			
			THE SOUNDS OF SUMMER


			
			I used to live across the 
			street from this mechanic.
			He owned a burley truck with
			forty-four inch tires
			and an engine that
			was so torqued, built, 
			and wrenched the window panes
			would shutter when it
			barked on by. He worked six days
			a week down at the corner garage.
			On Sundays he would 
			climb up on the bumper and
			spend his one day off
			working, half visible,
			under the hood.
			His dirty little children
			would run around and cackle and 
			shriek in the warm sun as he would 
			make adjustments.
			Every now and then he would jump
			down to take a swill off his beer
			and tune in the radio.
			Then he would crank her over
			and she would cough and gurgle
			real slow. And all the sounds 
			of summer were swallowed by his love.


			
			
			AN EVENING AT THE COUNTRY STORE
			


			The Mill Pond Country Store sells just about 
			anything from fishing bobbers to pickled eggs
			Mike owns the place and his whole family works there
			the walls are lined with everything useless to 
			just about anything you might need in a pinch
			out back a few picnic tables sit on the goose shit
			riddled lawn that butts up to the pond

			
			After work on New England summer nights
			GQ picks up his mail at the post office that
			hasn't changed much from the mid 1900's 
			picture on the wall
			then he meets the boys at the picnic tables
			out side the Mill Pond Country Store
			they drink Budweiser tall boys by the fist full and
			trade small town expansive tales
			talk of simple things that make them smile

			
			GQ is back woods, country some say
			drives a dump truck for The Public Works
			calls everybody brother with a far-reaching smile
			likes to tell jokes and listen to stories
			likes country music and beautiful untouchable women

			
			GQ sits at the picnic table sipping his beer
			the ducks wander across the lawn in no 
			particular pattern
			time wanders with the breeze
			not paying any attention at all
			and as the sky starts to turn from yellow to purple
			GQ takes a strong drag of the evening
			exhales slowly and grins
			appreciating the little things